


point a & point b

by tigerbox



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7461969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerbox/pseuds/tigerbox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>saint like good boys joshua and junhui enjoy a life with little rules and lots of freedom. they might be stuck in unmarked limbo, but hey, as long as they are happy right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	point a & point b

Stolen plates, aluminum hubcaps, gassed up, freeloading pipes. They could go anywhere together, converses skimming down the streets of backwater towns, skateboard skids marking territory of new places they've never been before. It's Junhui's idea to run, or not really run, but live, and Joshua goes with it; fully curious about the concept of just being free, so fucking free.

Burnt popcorn, discarded shrimp tails, empty milk cartons litter the floor of whatever nondescript motel they stay at next. They don't clean up, only trash some more, hookah smoke blowing through and through, fuzzy frames of some old black and white movie distilling as the lone background noise to keep them awake. They make out on frumpy couches sometimes, sewage colored stains seeping through the fabric. Joshua pretends it doesn't bother him, the times Junhui climbs on top of him and shoves him to the side of a sofa until his head hangs uncomfortably at the edge before falling off.

Junhui hovers, only because Joshua is too ambivalent about everything to do it himself, and their short lived trysts always end with him in a snicker, because Junhui kisses with too much fervor, tongue sliding down Joshua's neck too quick, lips pulsating with too much joy, fingers gripping where they shouldn't with an unshakable feeling of eager. Still Joshua engages back, mostly out of boredom, finger greased remote controls always too far out of reach to enjoy anything else.

They throw liquor bottles into motel pools, making bets on how many will float and how many will sink. "You're an idiot," Joshua tries explaining the laws of physics to Junhui repeatedly so that he gets that things that'll float will always float but Junhui still watches the bottles, waiting for a surprise, sharp eyes wide, almost wild. Their feet soak up the muddy water, neither one disgusted enough by the loose leaves and dead bugs floating around by the change of seasons to retreat their feet back up.

Joshua reaches over with no hesitation and begins to jack Junhui off, unzipping Junhui in a full public display of affection. No one's there, no one's ever there, of course, wherever they are. Junhui closes his eyes, leans his head back basking in the open sun, licking his lips. Joshua moves his hand to the rhythm of the soiled water waves, eyes caught in a trance by the jumpy rivulets shaking from the patterns of their feet moving under water. His hand jerks a bit too hard when he catches sight of a dead cockroach coming back to life at the edge of the pool, slimy shell case illuminating as the cockroach rotates itself back upward in the water, fully independent. Junhui yelps with a sudden little, "Oh," come spilling over the back of Joshua's hand, the rest of it dripping into the pool, coagulating into something shimmery at the bottom of their toes.

Unmarked strip bars, seedy truck stops, non-registered food stands are the equivalent of their date nights. Other times, it's just breakfast dates, early morning wake up calls, sunrises constituting as background settings, a mixture of yellow hues and over syrupy pancakes giving them both a good morning greeting. Junhui's shoe snakes up Joshua's legs underneath the diner table and Joshua doesn't inch back, enjoying the feel of pleasure under the table as well as the pleasure of eating a really good batch of eggs.

On rare occasions, they'll catch each other's eyes over a cup of coffee, laughing over the feeling that something's off, like they're just a pair of wanderers caught in an unexplained limbo.

"Ever think we were meant for something more?' Junhui asks, settling his coffee cup down in a new spot, ignoring the older brown ring on the table. "I feel like I'm supposed to be famous, bright lights, shiny stars, that whole package."

"If we were reincarnated, I'd probably be a priest," Joshua decides, closing his cat-like eyes, lost in a soft thought, "No drinking. No cussing. I'd be one of the good guys."

"We are the good guys," Junhui concludes, and then they both snicker, the sinister kind of laugh, finishing their coffee until there's nothing left but the bland grinds and liquid rings lingering on the table for someone else to clean up.

Flat tires, overexposure to the sun, jagged little rips in the pleather seats never do much to discourage them from going further in their travels.

Sometimes the thoughts of being tied to something else hits Joshua in the core, the thoughts of ' _supposed to be somewhere else_ ' hard to shake off but he dismisses it, as Junhui's always there with an open bottle of something, an extended hand, a puppy cuddle burrow to the neck to distract him.

Years later, they'll find an abandoned trailer and somewhat settle there. Junhui will ask him one more time in grave seriousness, a few years into their improvised domesticity, after a ruffle in the bed, shoes kicked off and adrenaline high. "But really, Joshua. What do you think the other versions of ourselves are doing right now?" Joshua debates, unable to shake that feeling of being neither here nor there. Joshua doesn't respond with words, too caught up in the marvel of Junhui's angular jaw line from the side, wondering what life would be like without waking up next to it. They interlock hands, lost in a joint reflection before starting the next day over, neither of them saying it out loud, neither admitting that they've been stuck in a reoccurring déjà vu.


End file.
